50 Flavors of Logurt
by PirateTurtle4
Summary: A series of micro fics with one word prompts featuring Kurt and Logan. Ratings will vary,but going with M to be on the safe side
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Sooo, yeah, more Kurt and Logan from me. Not an actual story though, just some little ficlet type things with one word prompts. Micro fics if you will. Just to get the creative juices going again. I've finished with my summer job, and I'm trying to get another job again while dealing with being a sophomore in college, as well as keep up with my writing, and it's difficult. I'm hoping by working on just these little things, I'll get back into writing more. Also, there will be 10 chapters with 5 prompts each._

**Comfort**

Rosary beads clattered to the floor and were picked up with a muttered "Didn't mean to startle ya." A black gloved hand placed them carefully in a three fingered indigo hand, before once more coming down on a shoulder, gentler this time, less frightening.

"It wasn't your fault. She…she knew what she was doing, even knew you'd wanna try'n help save her. But she didn't wanna be saved; rather save us. And that ain't your fault."

Saffron eyes widened in shock; the tears had hardly dried on the other man's face, but he was comforting him. He nodded and said the only thing he could think of.

"Danke."

**Kiss**

As far as first kisses went, it could've been worse. Or that's what Logan tried to assure a panic stricken, apologetic Kurt of as he mopped the blood from his chin to his lower lip where he'd nicked it on Kurt's sharp teeth.

"Look elf, I'm healin' already."

**Soft**

"Kurt? What're you doing?"

Kurt looks up from where he'd stretched out next to Logan, and was trailing his finger tips in the space between Logan's knuckles.

"So soft," Kurt mumbled. "Your blades are just behind here, all sharp and deadly, but it's so soft."

"Soft as here?" Logan traced his finger in the skin between the self inflicted religious scars on Kurt's cheek, chuckling when a shiver ran from Kurt's spine all the way down his tail tip. He tilted his head up to grin at Logan.

"Even softer."

**Pain**

"Owwww! Logan! Geben Sie acht, das verletzt!"

"I know it hurts, and I'm being as careful as I can Kurt. But c'mon, how was I supposed to know you could get sunburn?"

**Potatoes**

It was on a cold, rainy night, huddled in a tent that Kurt found out Logan was more than just a pretty face and a wicked set of claws. He was also in fact, a genius, bringing light into what had previously been a tent thick with shadows, and Kurt told him such. Logan chuckled in an embarrassedly pleased sort of way, and muttered that it was only a potato lamp.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: And here we are, chapter 2, long awaited I'm sure. I lay the blame on college for the most part, and a little bit on me, just plain laziness. Anyways, here's another 5 prompts, enjoy._

**6. Rain**

If he closed his eyes, the rain drops that fell steadily onto his umbrella sounded just like the rain on the tarps at the circus when he was younger. He could lose himself in the sound, imagine himself back, high above the cheering crowd, tail held out and keeping his balance as he walked the tightrope as easily as one would walk down the street.

But then the thunder rolled, lightning cracked, the cheering turned to screams as the rope snapped, sending him down, down, down into the net of Logan's strong arms.

"I've got you elf, and I always will."

**7. Chocolate**

As he helped Kurt peel the sticky, still warm mess off his stomach, Logan made a mental note: licking hot chocolate sauce off Kurt was good in theory, but in practice, the chocolate had a tendency to quickly cool and congeal into a thick layer that stuck in the raised self inflicted religious scars and refused to come free.

**8. Happiness**

Logan had his motorcycle.

Kurt had his own two feet.

Logan had beer.

Kurt also had beer, or the occasional glass of chocolate milk.

Logan had hockey games.

Kurt had classic pirate films.

Logan had Kurt.

Kurt had Logan

**9. Telephone**

Their love was like the old spiral cords that used to connect a phone to its base. It could stretch across rooms, twist and tangle and knot, but in the end, it always snapped back into place, and when the phone rang, someone always picked up.

**10. Ears**

"Do you like it?"

Kurt tilted his head to showcase the tiny silvery hoop glinting from the pointed tip of his ear. Logan traced his fingertip up to better get a look at it. He squinted; there was something damned familiar about that metal.

"Kurt, is this-''

"Adamantium, ja. Ze Professor, he helped me find some. I only needed a little-'' Kurt was cut off by Logan showing him just how much he liked his new accessory.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: oh look, a whole new chapter! Hooray, huzzah and all that jazz. I don't even know…enjoy._

**11. Name**

Logan is not his true name; of that much he's sure. But it's the one he has now, and it's honestly all he has. No last name, no name other than Wolverine. It used to not matter to him, but then again, nothing used to matter to him at all. That all changed when _he_ came along. Since then, he's sort of worried, only a little mind you, that he doesn't have a last name to pass along, for them to share. Sure he could take his, y'know, if they ever _did_ get hitched, but honestly, Logan Wagner is too ridiculous for words.

**12. Sensual**

It's a tail, god damn it; an appendage. He uses it for balance when running, when fighting, when 'porting and generally keeping upright on his oddly shaped legs. It's hardly as though he does it consciously, he can't know the shiver it gives Logan to see him hanging from it in the gym, to see him carving graceful circles in the air in time to whatever song he's humming to himself, to see him gripping with it…Logan tears his gaze away from that delicate spade at the tip to meet the yellow eyes boring into him. One dark blue eyebrow quirks upward and a smile curves his lips, barely showing the fangs.

"You bastard…"

**13. Death**

Logan and Death have never gotten along. Logan has always been outside of Death, courtesy of his mutation, and so Death, feeling cheated, has always stolen away those Logan cares most for before their time, to get back at him. Logan knows this; every time another dies tears at his heart and makes him wish for death and curses what kind of cruel joke it is that he'll probably never get his wish. He knows this and yet…yet he can't give him up. For the scent of brimstone and incense on his pillow, and cold rainy nights at the bar, he'll face down Death himself, because he's finally found someone worth protecting, someone he won't let Death have any time soon.

**14. Sex**

Kurt wants it, he knows. He does too; they've been dancing around it for a while now, and the tension's thick enough to walk on, thick enough to cut…. But neither of them can make the first move; can put the oldest of dances into motion. One for lack of experience and one for several lifetimes's too much experience. And so all that's left to do is put another quarter in the jukebox and ride out the song, though neither knows what'll happen when the music finally stops.

**15. Touch**

They say adamantium is indestructible, rigid, and not even fully magnetic. One would think it could be nothing but hard, cause nothing but harm. However, Kurt can speak from experience that it has a softer side too. Not once has he been nicked on the many occasions Logan insisted on alternative methods of clothing removal, not even when they whisper along his back like the most delicate of fingers and he can't help but shiver.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: hey all. If anyone's still reading I mean. I mean, it's not like I'm great at keeping up with chapters. I dunno, almost feel like my muse and I have parted ways, not just on this, but on everything I've been trying to work on. It feels like, when she's around, I can't type, but when I make time, she's nowhere to be found. Ah well, make the best of it I say.

**16. Weakness**

It wasn't a weakness. A distraction maybe, or if one wanted to be perfectly blunt, something of an obsession. But certainly not a weakness. Because the idea that the minute concave bend at the small of Logan's back, the one that lead straight to the oh so delicious curve of his ass was a weakness was laughable. So what if it was the one concession to softness on him, two perfect handfuls of padding to contrast all the hard muscle? What did it matter that his jeans seemed tailored made to accentuate that beloved curvature, and all Logan had to do was wear just them and Kurt would be a puddle on the floor? That certainly did _not_ make it a weakness.

**17. Tears**

Logan could admit to crying in the past; he was sure as a boy he'd shed his share of tears, and he knew there had been tears when Jean had left him. He felt he'd earned the right to them. But he wasn't the only one who'd had a rough go of things. Kurt had been ostracized his whole life because people couldn't see past the blue exterior, and even in the mansion some skirted around him. Yet Logan had never seen him cry. He held it all in check behind a wall of mellow enlightenment, or at least that's how it seemed. Logan saw the chinks in the armor, because he was looking for them. And when the wall finally, _finally_ crumbled, and let forth all the years of loneliness and longing in one bitter torrent of tears, he made sure he was there to mop up the mess, and set the bricks right again.

**18. Speed**

Logan heard him come in at some unholy hour of the morning. No, he hadn't been waiting up, he just wanted a midnight snack at…2:35 in the morning. He padded out into the hall just as Kurt crept by, doing his utmost to not make a sound.

The smell hit him first, that so familiar cocktail of pheromones that blared "just got laid". Another sniff, and Logan picked up a scent that brought to mind swampland; murky water, humidity, and plant life, and his brain supplied a name. Toad, the green hued, slimy tongued so called ex member of Magneto's crew. He'd had his eye on Kurt for ages, but Kurt had rebuffed him at every turn. Until now…

Kurt startled, thinking he'd been found out, and then realized who he'd nearly walked into. His amber eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything. He didn't have to. Logan knew he'd blown it, and he cursed himself for being too damn slow to realize it.

**19. Wind**

Logan opened his eyes, turning his head to glance at the curtains framing the open window. He must've dozed off waiting; he'd been checking them all night. So far nothing, but now…he squinted and saw the filmy blue material fluttering as though a breeze had just blown in, but the forecast had called for a still night. Logan had a second to brace for impact before the air above him imploded, blowing his hair back and dumping one indigo elf into his lap.

"Welcome home Kurt."

**20. Freedom**

He liked his freedom. He relished in the fact that if he wanted to, he could pull up stakes, hop on his (Scott's) bike and go wherever the road took him. Sure, he was fond of a few of the kids, and having a roof over his head was nice, but it wasn't in his nature to stay in one place for long. He came and went as he pleased. Or at least, he used to, until _he_ came along.

Each warm smile he threw Logan's way was another chain wrapped around him, and every fleeting sulfur tinged kiss drove a spike through those chains and into the ground. As for the first time they slept together? Well, Kurt may as well have thrown Logan into a maximum security prison where he was the warden and there was no hope of bail or time off for good behavior. But, as he found out, there were also no rules against conjugal visits between warden and prisoner, which got him thinking that swapping a bit of freedom for the old ball and chain wasn't a fate worse than death.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: another entry, slowly trying to ease myself back into typing. It's weird, I have things I want to type, but none of them are the things I should be working on. Sigh…_

**21. Life**

"All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make, the better" was a quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson that Kurt kept repeating to himself as he tapped Logan on the shoulder and before the other man could say a word, kissed him.

**22. Jealousy**

"What do I have to do Logan? Grow an engine, some handlebars? How about a set of wheels? Then will you pay attention to me?"

**23. Hands**

Most people, when they looked at Kurt's hands, assumed that because they lacked two fingers they were clumsy, unfit for even the simplest of tasks. Most of those people would then be proved wrong when they met the business end of one of his many swords that he wielded with all the flair of a master.

**24. Taste**

"You're drinking piss."

"Scuse me?"

"Zhat. In ze can. Ist piss, how can you drink it?"

"Cause it doesn't taste like piss to me."

Kurt made a scathing sound and muttered something about "peasant unrefined taste buds."

"You wanna run that by me again, _elf_?"

"Heh, nein. I vill, however, run out and get you beer you deserve liebchen."

"S'what I thought. I'll join ya."

**25. Devotion**

If there was one thing Logan was devoted to almost as much as he was Kurt, it was hockey. And it was a devotion that he passed along to Kurt, if only after Kurt got fed up with being ignored and decided to find out what the big deal was. He wasn't normally a violent man, but he could agree there was something to be had for the energy, the sound of blades on ice, the roar of the crowd when gloves dropped and blood hit the ice. He soon found himself perched on Logan's lap, draped in a voluminous jersey Logan had given him, shouting along with him at the bogus call the ref made. And Logan found he loved him more then than he ever had before, if that was even possible.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Not a whole lot to say here, just another set of five mini fics of the Logurt variety. This summer's been surprisingly good for me, writingwise. I am pleased, and hopefully you all are as well. _

_PS: this first one was supposed to go to Devotion in the last chapter, but I screwed up a bit. It's also on the sadder side, as well as a tad longer than usual. But the idea wouldn't leave me be, so please, bear with me?_

**26. Forever**

The day was, for lack of a better adjective, beautiful. The sky stretched on, a clear cornflower blue and empty of any clouds. It was warm, but not uncomfortably so, and a light breeze shook the leaves and ruffled the neatly trimmed grass.

His hair, which was shot through here and there with gray, was as thick and dark as it had ever been, and his face showed no signs of the ravages of time beyond a few extra lines at his mouth and the corner of his eyes. Despite the fact that he still retained the agility he'd honed over years, he moved across the lawn slowly and stiffly, as though hurt, and settled heavily on the low stone bench with a groan.

His gaze lifted to the stone, which unlike his face, showed its age. The edges had been rounded out, and moss had been creeping up the sides and back for a while now. More importantly, the carved in letters of the name had been eroded to the point where he had to squint to make them out. The dates of birth and death however stood out, taunting him with the relatively small amount of years between them, and consequently their own so brief time together.

He'd nearly brought flowers, but flowers had never been their style. They were more long hours spent in one another's company, not needing to say much of anything as they nursed their beers; of mornings waking up tangled in one another, of the lingering scent of brimstone on his pillow.

He pushed himself to his feet after a while, and started to walk away. He paused and pressed his fingers to the sun warmed stone.

"See ya next year elf."

**27. Blood**

Kurt knows the mission was a success when Logan comes home absolutely covered head to toe in blood (some of it his, most of it theirs), with a fresh six pack under one arm and a new box of condoms in a plastic bag dangling from the other. That's how Logan is; fighting and sex and blood and adrenaline are all mixed up in the back part of his brain, and one can set off another with usually interesting results.

Normally, Kurt wouldn't dream of denying Logan, but really, he's trailing blood, it looks like he's done a Carrie, or maybe a Countess of Bathory or slaughtered the Kool-Aid Man and as much as Kurt loves Logan he'll not have blood on the new sheets he just put on their bed thankyouverymuch. As it is, he knows that when he sends Logan to the shower, the tub, no matter how much he scrubs, will forever more be stained slightly pink.

**28. Sickness**

"What the hell do you mean you won't see him? He's dying god damn it all, and this is a hospital!"

Logan slammed his fist down on the reception desk, hard enough to dent the cheap material and draw stares from the late night sickly crowd. But he didn't give one damn; all that mattered was Kurt, sick from he knew not, bundled in a wheelchair and breathing in fevered, dragging gasps and still managing to look up to him with that look that said he knew Logan would take care of everything, as he always did.

But he looked back at the desk, and the woman, who had her arms crossed across her chest, wearing the _Your kind are not welcome here_ expression that he'd seen far too much of, and short of tearing the place down brick by brick, he didn't know how he was ever going to get Kurt the help he so needed that Logan for once couldn't provide…

**29. Melody**

"Kurt? I know you're excited and all, but this is a covert type mission, and I'm pretty sure our cover will be blown if they hear you humming the Mission Impossible theme."

**30. Star (struck)**

It was kind of cute at first, the awestruck expressions, the shy glances, and especially how they listened to everything he said. But as the weeks went on, and they didn't fade (if anything they got bolder) well, it got a little annoying. Then of course, came the day Kurt brought him lunch, teleporting in without a thought.

Suddenly Kurt found himself with about two dozen eyes, wide as saucers, focused on him, and about two dozen high pitched voices babbling away at him.

"Mr. Nightcrawler what's teleportin' like?"

"Mr. Nightcrawler how come you're bringing Mr. Logan lunch?"

"I wish I had a tail, yours is so cool!"

"How come you're so blue Mr. Nightcrawler?"

As Kurt looked over his shoulder at Logan, equal parts embarrassed and pleased with the attention, as well as a little surprised at the absolute sincerity, Logan decided that maybe this latest batch of little ones to the Mansion weren't so bad after all.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Still using this as more an exercise to get myself back into writing. It's hard for me, I guess, so many things I wanna write but my drive to do so just jumps all over the place. Ah well, enjoy another installment here. _

**31. Home**

"For me, home was a puppy named Buck…cutest dog ever. All those fuckin' zombies…"

It's movie marathon night, and Pyro, being Pyro wants to watch zombie movies. All the zombie movies. Classic Romero, Shaun of the Dead, 28 Days Later, Zombieland…and Kurt and Logan offered to chaperone, taking payment in what is admittedly the lion's share of popcorn, assorted candy and a healthy mix of soda for Kurt, beer for Logan.

Logan finds he can relate to this Tallahassee guy; granted if the zombie apocalypse ever happened, he'd just use his claws rather than the cobbled together weapons Tallahassee makes, but still he can't help but feel a sense of kinship with him. The feeling only increases as he picks up his little family of Columbus, Wichita, and Little Rock, and it's revealed that Buck wasn't exactly a puppy…

Kurt snuggles against him, pulling his arm further around his shoulders. He's as into the movies as the kids, the light of the tv playing over his face. Almost like he can feel Logan's gaze he glances up and smiles. Logan finds himself repeating Tallahassee's line, only with his own twist.

"For me, home was an elf named Kurt, cutest teleporter ever. All those fuckin' zombies…didn't stand a chance."

* * *

**32. Confusion**

It wasn't his fault nobody thought to keep him in the loop about new guests staying in the mansion, and it sure as hell wasn't his fault nobody told him the guy could barely speak English, and understood only the most basic of phrases.

That said, it only took one instance of Logan trying to call him for dinner like Storm asked, being ignored and getting increasingly insulted until Storm realized the situation and stepped in, before he decided to put a permanent end to the confusion.

"Here, you and me, we're gonna learn to communicate," Logan declared, plopping on the couch with Kurt and tossing him a German to English and back again dictionary. Kurt looked from the small battered book in his three fingered hands, then up at Logan before his face split into a wide grin that Logan found himself returning. He watched as Kurt flipped through the pages, scanning the phrases.

"Thank you," he began, slowly, his accent thick. "My name is Kurt Wagner."

Logan laughed, and pulled the dictionary over, finding the right phrases. "Hallo Kurt. Mein name ist Logan." He held out his hand for Kurt to shake, which he did, still smiling beatifically.

* * *

**33. Fear**

Kurt has known fear. He has seen it in the eyes of those who look upon him, not seeing beyond his mutation, seeing only a demon. He has felt it from time to time; being made Stryker's puppet springs immediately to mind. But that time, and every other time he has felt it was mainly for himself, the fear that he was no longer in control of himself, the fear of being hunted down. That fear speeds his pulse, shortens his breath and makes his 'ports sporadic at best.

The fear he feels now is not that fear. This fear, as he holds Logan's life in his hands, hands which are slick with blood, sits heavy in his chest, stealing his breath completely. It leaves a coppery taste in his mouth, leaves him wanting to seize up but he mustn't.

He knows that Logan is so very strong, and his healing factor perhaps the best ever seen, but this wound he had returned with (and how had he gotten home, so grievously injured? The question clenches at Kurt's heart) had nearly decapitated him, and leaves Kurt with the fear that this time was too much and Logan will not wake up from it.

He shakes his head, and goes back to pressing his palms against the wound, fighting through the fear to try and will the blood to turn round and the skin to knit together and for Logan to wake up damn it and make it up to him for making him so afraid.

* * *

**34. Thunder/Lightning**

Logan dreads thunderstorms. Thunderstorms mean the grounds turn to marshland, and all the kids are stuck inside where eventually they get bored. Sure they don't come whining directly to him anymore (they'd learned better), but it was still a little more than irritating, seeing the little ones and more grown up ones alike laying around, sighing despondently and generally making it known that they are displeased with the turn of the weather.

Kurt, on the other hand, loves thunderstorms. The power never gets knocked out at the mansion of course, but still, he turns out as many lights as he can, and usually can coerce at least some of the little ones into a game of hide and seek, which he is very, very good at, sneaking from shadow to shadow and blending in, in a way that is more than a little unnerving.

Logan grows to like these games, because even though the kids may cry unfair at Kurt's use of the shadows, they don't come crying to him and he's able to put his feet up and wait for the storm to blow over.

* * *

**35. Bonds**

Logan opens the door to the bedroom his and Kurt share when there's a knock at it, and he nearly shuts it again when he sees who's on the other side.

"It vould be better if you didn't ask, but you can lay the blame on Bobby," Kurt mutters, not meeting his eyes, instead looking at the floor. His left hand is stretched out and joined with Remy's right, frozen in a thick layer of ice.

"His attempts at impressing Miss Rogue backfired, obviously," Remy added sourly. "We would have asked Johnny, but he was laughing too hard to be of much use."

"Right," Logan says shortly. He maneuvers them into the room, sitting so he has room to work and begins slicing away at ice that holds his lover temporarily bound to Remy. And if he happens to knick the card wielding mutant's hand once in a while, well so much the better in his opinion.


	8. Chapter 8

**36. Market**

"Darlin', I am in the damn aisle, and I'm telling you they don't have…wait a minute, yeah alright, found it. Be home soon, love ya."

**37. Technology**

Neither of them much cared for it. For Kurt, it was too much like wearing a mask, only this one covered his whole body, and made him have to take such care that his tail didn't lash out and spoil the illusion. Logan just hated that he was kept looking into the face of a stranger, even if said stranger had Kurt's scent and voice. Each time Kurt had to wear it, Logan promised it would be the last time, even though they both knew it was a lie.

**38. Gift**

Logan knew he was in deep when he found himself sat before a computer at two in the morning, scrolling through websites suggesting 'Perfect Valentine Gifts for Him!'

**39. Smile**

"Who's the breakfast for Logan?"

"None a' your business kid."

"Wow, eggs, and toast, and bacon. And orange juice. How bad did you screw up?"

"I said none a' your business. And wipe the smirk off your face…Marie."

Rogue's grin, if anything, grew wider as she watched him walk away.

**40. Innocence**

Kurt had this habit, if he was feeling particularly needing, or if he felt like messing with Logan, or if he was just plain bored. It wasn't that Logan minded this habit per se, it's just, it was always slightly startling. Kurt just didn't look the type to drop in, literally, on someone completely naked.

_A/N: Hey any and all readers I may still have. No, I'm not completely dropped off the face of the planet. I just really suck at finishing anything with more than one chapter apparently. I'm trying to work on that, but it's slow going. My apologies. _

_Also, the tech in #37 is meant to be that image disguiser thing Kurt had, the proper name of which escapes me now. _


End file.
